


Stiles and Gerard

by SquishySterek (Herm_own_ninny)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, BAMF Stiles, Erica and Boyd are alive, Hale Pack, Homophobic Language, I'm gonna say post-Nogi and post-Gerard being bitten, Magic Stiles, Scott's a dick but I'm not apologizing, Stiles torturing Gerard, Torture, idk what time period it's set honestly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 11:50:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herm_own_ninny/pseuds/SquishySterek
Summary: Peter got Gerard. And he's given him to Stiles.It's what Stiles asked for. The boy deserved some form of gift, and if torturing the man who constantly belittled, hurt him and pack, and destroyed people and supernaturals alike, Peter had no problem letting him have that.Participation Piece for We Heart Peter 2k18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostwithoutmyanchor (mysourwolf)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysourwolf/gifts).



> I wanted to make a statement about the fact this is a torture fic but not listed as Graphic Depictions of Violence-  
> I chose the tag I chose because of the many conversations I had in debate on whether or not to consider it a graphic description. I don't talk about seeing flesh or blood dripping, about the sounds or using the most detailed imagery.  
> That being said, if torture makes you uncomfortable or you feel queasy at the mention of breath deprivation, live dissection, burning, slight psychological torture, or slightly dubious consent when kissing as a form of torture, please know your own limits and don't do anything that would hurt you.
> 
> Please check end notes of every chapter for chapter specific warnings in relation to torture methods.

“So I can go about this however I want?” Stiles looked up at Peter, his eyes alight with a truly gorgeous glow.  
“It's your treat. I can help or stand to the side,” Peter smirked, taking his phone from his pocket and putting it on silent.  
“I may have some technique questions, but… stay here? I know you'll at least have fun hearing him scream.”  
“As if I'd give you that pleasure,” Gerard snarled, pulling at his restraints before turning to cough up more of his black soul, as Stiles liked to call it. Because that's what he wanted to see. Gerard was coughing up his blackened, ruined, disgusting soul, and that was why he was dying. Stiles was just going to speed it up slightly, and add a few extra painful elements.  
“It's cute, honestly,” Stiles turned to face him, grabbing some pliers from a table of assorted weapons, “that you think there will be a point where you'd still have a choice. Where you'll still have enough mental stability to refuse anything but a natural, instinctual response. Honestly,” Stiles sighed, standing in front of Gerard, a devious gleam in his eyes, “you have no clue what you've got coming for you.”  
Peter had no clue where it came from, but there was an orb of water surrounding Gerard’s face when the kid ripped one of his nails from his hand. He felt no remorse at laughing when the older man screamed, inhaling water. It deformed and fell to the ground around him after a few seconds of him choking, and Gerard was hunched forward, gasping and choking up water simultaneously.  
“I thought you would've been a fire mage. But, hell, Stiles,” Peter chuckled, stepping forward to watch Gerard’s mouth tinge with black once the water had been expelled from his body.  
“Me, too. I was hoping for something cooler. But, hey, guess it works. An emissary that has the thing to fight his pack’s biggest fear,” Stiles glanced at him with a small smile, reaching forward to yank another of Gerard’s nails out with ease. He hissed in pain and tried to pull his hand back, fangs barely visible through the black mass he was still coughing up. “Fuck you.”  
“Oh, honey, no thank you,” Stiles smirked, turning his attention back to the man restrained before him. “I was about to say I'm flattered, but I'm really not.”  
“As if I'd ever want to fuck a fag like you!”  
“Hm, Stiles, he doesn't seem to like ‘faggots’,” Peter murmured, moving to stand behind him and settle his chin on the teen’s shoulder. “I guess it makes sense why he didn't like my family. So many of us.”  
Stiles’ jaw was clenched tight as he stared at Gerard, knuckles white around the pliers in his hand. “Hey, _babe_ , would you happen to have any chemical solutions with you?” He turned to look at Peter, his eyes filthy with mirth. And all Peter could do was return the expression. “Loads. Whatcha thinking?”  
“I've got a home remedy I wanted to try. Some powdered laundry detergent crystals dipped in nail polish remover.”  
“Sure thing,” Peter smiled, then leaned forward and gave a quick peck to Stiles’ cheek. The anger from Gerard that filled the room was well worth the verbal lashing he'd probably get later from the teen, but he knew he'd be willing to continue with the method. What he hadn't expected was a hand to grab his shoulder, spin him around, and pull him into a full-blown kiss. He reacted quickly, hands moving to hold Stiles’ waist as arms wound their way around his neck. Gerard's anger only increased, and Peter couldn't help his pride in the teen for going this far.  
They broke apart laughing as Gerard emptied his stomach, Peter and Stiles holding each other, leaning into the other. “That's golden,” Stiles breathed out, resting his head against Peter’s shoulder before turning to face the older man, who was still gagging.  
“It's pathetic. I figured he'd have a stronger stomach after the shitty things he's done in his life,” Peter sighed, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder before letting go of him. “Nail polish remover and powdered laundry detergent, right?”  
“Mmm, yeah. Do you have a mop? I'm not standing in puke.”  
“Yeah. You make your mixture and I'll clean up,” Peter murmured, glancing to make sure Gerard was watching them before kissing Stiles’ temple. “The stuff should be on the second shelf by the door.”  
“Alright. No fun without me,” Stiles gave Peter a look, and the wolf rolled his eyes, nodding.  
“Fine.”  
“You promised me, Peter,” Stiles reminded him before dropping his voice, settling a hand on his waist just for show. “You can help me with the burning.”  
“I will take you up on that. Now, go. I have to clean before that shit dries on the floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homophobic language, water torture, choking, dubious consent in relation to a kiss between Peter and Stiles


	2. Chapter 2

”I want to save the idea for another day, I feel like it'll numb him to the pain too quickly right now,” Stiles murmured, staring down at the table in front of him when Peter came back in the room.  
“You've got shocking equipment? Towels, too?” Stiles murmured, turning to look at Peter with a small smile. “Or should we allow him some deprivation?”  
“Let's shock him like he held that couple back then,” Peter suggested, grabbing some copper wire and a car battery. “And then we can go grab something to eat and go bug Derek. Sound like a plan?”  
“Yeah. I just need you to show me how,” Stiles mumbled, a slight pout to his lips. “And then I'll know how to, next time.”  
“Next time?” Peter chuckled, walking back towards Gerard, glancing at him nonchalantly when he growled.  
“You don't honestly expect this to be a one time thing? I expect to be involved any other times you torture someone or something.”  
Peter nodded, wrapping the wire around Gerard’s left wrist before curling it down his arm, looping it loosely around his neck before moving down his right arm and securing it around his wrist. He snapped the wire there before copying the pattern over the first, then gave Stiles the coil. “Secure it through the loop around his neck and start wrapping it down his torso down both of his legs, doubled up like I did. Leave three feet at the end of each wire to connect to the battery. Maybe… get him a little wet so it dances over him.”  
“Where are you going?”  
“I'm grabbing my wallet and keys. He's probably gonna scream the first few minutes, and I'm not going to stay around and get a headache.”  
“Grab my phone and wallet?” Stiles called after Peter, turning to face the monster before him and beginning the work he was given.  
“So, how you doing?” Stiles asked in a mocking conversational tone, pulling the wires uncomfortably tight around his chest, twisting them together before wrapping lower and continuing the pattern down.  
Gerard simply grunted in response, tugging at the restraints around his wrists, shifting his weight.  
“Mmm. Someone's scared,” Stiles chuckled, working the wire down both legs and leaving the prescribed length at the end. He cut the wire with some clippers before uncapping each side of the car battery. “How scared are you?”  
Gerard growled and spat some of the black goo leaking from his mouth at Stiles, who only chuckled darkly when it missed him.  
“So, very,” Stiles stated before standing up, smiling hopefully at Peter. “Finished.”  
“Good. A little tight, but I figure that's because you think it'll cause everything to hurt more?”  
“He'll lose circulation and have deeper bruising from the electricity, no?”  
“We'll see. I never went tight because it sometimes won't continue and instead will just route its way directly into the body and won't spread over such a large area.”  
“Should I loosen it?”  
“No, I have a feeling it isn't tight enough to cause that to happen. Go grab the construction gloves.”  
Stiles held them up in front of Peter, grinning. “Already done. Show me how?”  
“Have you never put together a circuit board, even a toy one?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Put the gloves on. Wrap the wires around each end. Start with the negative end and then attach the positive.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Gerard screamed. Loudly. Even Stiles’ ears were ringing, which meant Peter had to be in immense pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torture by electric shocking mentioned


	3. Chapter 3

“So, I've got an anatomy test tomorrow and I wanted to study today,” Stiles was on the phone with Peter, driving through town towards where the wolf was being held. “He should be out of it enough from the electricity to where he won't yell so much if I use him to study?”  
“You're really going to use him to study?” Peter laughed. “He seems pretty out of it. Not even making eye contact with me. Should be a good day to. He'll wake up to it later and probably scream and wail his heart out.”  
“Sounds like a good time. I’m-”  
“-here,” Peter finished, opening the door for Stiles right as he turned off the engine to Roscoe.  
“Look at you and your constant vigilance,” Stiles smiled, hoping out of the Jeep and walking in the door, sighing happily. “So, the test is over the hand and wrist. Do you happen to know which is his dominant?”  
“Left.”  
“Makes sense. Older cultures used to believe being left-handed was a sign of the devil.”  
“ _I’m_ left handed. You trying to say something?”  
“We both know you're far from angelic,” Stiles gave Peter a pointed smirk, walking into the area where they were holding Gerard.  
“You don't have much room to talk yourself. You wanted this.”  
“Never said that was the case, Peter.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Okay, you have the picture from my textbook?” Stiles had successfully and cleanly removed the top layers of skin from Gerard’s hand, peeled back any muscle and cartilage and tied off his arm halfway down the forearm to stop blood flow. “I'm gonna point to each thing and list it off to you and you can tell me if it's right?”  
“Alright. Start with the fingers and work your way in.”  
“Sure thing,” Stiles rested the end of the scalpel against Gerard’s exposed bones and began listing them off. “Proximal Phalange 1, Distal phalange 1, and then each of 2 to 5 are proximal, medial, and distal. 5 is the pinky and 2 is the index.”  
“Correct. Keep going.”  
“The metacarpals align with the phalanges, but I'll list them off nonetheless,” And Stiles did, connecting them to their correlating phalange by dragging the blade of the scalpel down each track of bone.  
“Alright. That's the easy part. Start listing those wrist bones. Left to right.”  
“Alright, carpals,” Stiles mumbled, taking a deep breath before he started. “Pisiform with the triquetral settled a little below and slightly on top of it. Hamate and Capitate are right next to each other, larger bones in the middle area. Lunate and Scaphoid make up the lower part of the wrist slash carpals. Trapezium is right below the metacarpal one to lead to the thumb, and the trapezoid is under the metacarpal two to lead to the index finger.”  
“That was almost perfect. Just mixed up two that are easy to,” Peter smiled, taking the scalpel from Stiles and setting it on the Pisiform. “The Pisiform rests slightly atop the triquetral. You said it the other way around.”  
“Fuck! I do the same with the tibia and fibula. I incorrectly associated ‘tibia’ with 'tiny’ but the fibula is actually the smaller bone in the lower leg and the tibia is the larger one. I also call the fibula the ‘fibia’ due to the Mandela effect. I argued with Lydia about it for 20 minutes until she got a copy of our textbook and had our professor back up her claim.”  
“Well, go ahead and list all of the major bones out for me. I remember that much from anatomy,” Peter smiled, turning his phone off and putting it in his pocket. He assumed anatomical position, standing at attention for Stiles.  
He listed through the bones of the hand and the wrist again before pressing against each bone of Peter’s arm as he listed them off. “Radius, the bone connected to your thumb. When you twist your arm it will cross over your ulna, or the ulna crosses below the radius. Lydia argued with me on that, too,” Stiles chuckled before moving on. “Your humerus connects to your scapula- and yes, I know it's supposed to be 'scap’-ula, but I say 'scape’-ula. Shush,” Stiles mumbled, moving his hands to Peter’s head.  
“The skull, made up of the frontal, temporal, parietal and occipital lobes. Zygomatic bone,” Stiles murmured, dragging a finger across Peter’s cheekbones before pressing against the area between his upper lip, just below his nose. “Maxilla, the jaw is the mandible,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along Peter’s jaw before moving behind him and pressing a finger against the base of his skull. “The hole your spine comes out of your head at is the foramen magnum, like the condom brand,” he mumbled, lightly massaging Peter’s neck. “And then you've got your axis and atlas bones in the cervical slash upper part of your spine, followed by the thoracic, your abdomen. Again, yes, it's supposed to be 'thor-ass-ic’ but I say 'thor-ace-ic’. Your clavicle is at top,” Stiles murmured, coming back around front and tapping against Peter’s, smiling slightly. “Then your sternum, made up of your manubrium, sternum body, and the xiphoid process at the bottom. Ribs connect there, of course,” Stiles kept rambling, his fingers ghosting over Peter’s torso whenever he listed a bone before moving back behind him and going back to the spine. “After the thoracic region of the spine, there's the lumbar, then the sacrum. I'm not touching them because your ass is in the way,” Stiles chuckled, grinning when Peter shook his head and laughed quietly.  
“Thank you for sparing me of a groping session.”  
“Not for lack of want, you've got a nice ass. But I'm studying! And I can't afford to be distracted. Now,” Stiles sighed, shaking his head slightly. “The coccyx connects to the sacrum, and there is a small bone that sometimes can become a small tail on newborns called the caudal vertebrae. I've seen some in the hospital, Melissa would sometimes let me see if she was carting a baby to surgery to have it removed.”  
“Intriguing. Perhaps that's what grows into my tail when I fully shift?”  
“That's a point to discuss later. I still have to do the legs and you're distracting me with cool theories.”  
“Better hurry, Gerard’s pulse just kicked up, he might be waking.”  
“Noted,” Stiles nodded, dropping to his knees in front of Peter and pressing a hand to his thigh. “Femur, connects in a socket to the pelvis. The knee cap, fuck, it always gets away from me…” Stiles groaned, settling his hand over Peter’s knee, glaring at the amusement in the man's eyes above him. “Oh! Patella! And then tibia, often called the shin. Fibula is the smaller one. They meet at your ankle, which is actually the end of your fibula sticking out slightly. I just know I've got the tarsals, then metatarsals, and phalanges again,” Stiles stood up once he finished, smiling proudly at Peter. “Now, let's get out of here before he starts screaming and freaking about his hand.”  
“We should probably feed him tomorrow. It'll be three days.”  
“Should I casually lift a feeding tube from the hospital for us to use, or should I grab an IV?”  
“IV sounds good. Whatever arm we use we can't damage. Deal?”  
“Yeah. Now, come on. I wanna head to the book store and get some coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Living dissection, mentions of psychological torture
> 
> Quick note:  
> This posted before I was completely ready. My beta is still reading everything else but I'm to the point where I'm just... Idk. Worn out.  
> I hope you enjoy what's up now, and allow me to apologize for taking so long to post. Major family emergency came up. I sincerely hope you enjoy.


End file.
